Greg Geilman, right, joins others in a game of Dungeons and Dragons on Saturday, Jan. 19, 2013.

Photo By Billy Calzada/San Antonio Express-News

Many dice are used in the game of Dungeons and Dragons. Saturday, Jan. 19, 2013.

Photo By Billy Calzada/San Antonio Express-News

A figured called Orcus, god of death is used in the game of Dungeons and Dragons. Saturday, Jan. 19, 2013.

On a sunny South Texas Saturday afternoon, Greg Geilman and his friends shut themselves inside his home to take a stand against the linear plotlines and over-the-top graphics of video games.

Twelve people sat around a pair of tables that had been pushed together, a large map showing unfamiliar continents, islands and oceans, draped over the surface. On top of the map were hard-bound books, paper scraps, pens, pencils and hundreds of dice of different colors and different shapes.

Scrabble? Monopoly? Yahtzee? Think again.

They're playing Pathfinder, a swords-and-sorcery role playing game, or RPG, from the lineage of Dungeons & Dragons, and that day's five-hour session was part of an ongoing campaign that could take months, maybe years to complete. Geilman, on paper at least, was butchering as many of his guests as possible.

And everyone was enjoying it.

They aren't alone. Up to a million others play Pathfinder or D&D on a regular basis, says Jason Bulmahn, the game's lead designer.

“We had a lot of discussions about what we should try to emphasize,” he said of the design process. “We can't win the fight over graphics and ease of play. But we can win the fight with creativity.”

“In a video game, you're basically on the rail,” said Bulmahn. “You're doing what the designers want you to do. You can't determine your character's history. But in a RPG, you can be who you want to be. You can do whatever you want. These games allow the GM and the players to tell whatever story they want to tell.”

For Tanya Forsythe, the game is the one thing she can play with her 15-year-old son. She played D&D as a teen, gave it up for real life, and got back into RPGs when her son found them.

“He's learning how to deal with real people,” she said. “He's learning social skills, diplomacy, respect, humility and teamwork.”

She lowered her voice so that her son — who asked to be identified only as Jadex, the name of his character — didn't hear.

“It's also math intensive and reading intensive.”

She raised an eyebrow and cracked the smile of a parent barely able to contain her happiness.

Geilman's victims also enjoy the camaraderie.

“There's no social interaction in a video game,” said Jason Jones. “It's more fun to sit across the table from someone.”

Geilman ran the game and hosted the event with wife Kara. From Geilman's imagination — aided by rules set forth in some of the books — sprang forth multiarmed Gug and fish-headed creatures, attacking the make-believe characters of fellow players.

They fought back with dice rolls that dictated how they moved, the success of counterattacks, and their ability to survive attacks levied at them. In this game, every aspect of life is broken down into a chart, with dice injecting an element of chance.

One of Kara Geilman's characters, a priest of some sort, didn't fare so well. It received twice as much pain as her character is allowed to take.

What happened to her?

“There is a fine red mist,” James Kohelwes joked ghoulishly, “where the cleric once stood.”

After three hours of real time, only a few minutes of game time had elapsed. The body count was up to four, and Geilman decided they had suffered enough. With little fanfare, he announced that everyone's character was now out of the cave and safe on the surface.